by J. C. Eaton
“I’m not sure how, but I do know one thing—Frank was the same man Lizzie saw in here this past Thursday. The one who retrieved his missing baseball cap. Only it wasn’t missing. He threw it out his car window after having a verbal exchange with Henry days before. Something about his refusal regarding the tawny port. Lizzie overheard snippets of the conversation between Frank and a woman he was with.”
“Let me guess. Libations wanted an exclusive release and sale.”
“Yeah. Seems that way. After work Theo, Don and I will put our heads together. By the way, I told Bradley about Steven Trobert and he thought it was funny. Then again, he hasn’t met Catherine, so the clock is still ticking as far as I’m concerned.”
“Hey, do you want the crew to know about Frank? They’ll be curious as to why you bolted out of here.”
“We can both let them know in between customers at our tables. Speaking of which, I probably should get back out there.”
“Same deal here as soon as I’m done loading the dishwasher.”
The remainder of the afternoon flew by, and in fact, I had to gobble my turkey and cheese sandwich on the run because we were so crowded. Then, just as it got close to closing time, Godfrey phoned.
“You’re not going to believe this, Norrie, but my office was called to consult on the Brewer murder. Well, not my office per se, but our office, the Experiment Station.”
“I thought it was pretty clear-cut. You know, the maggots, the flesh flies, those dermy beetles . . .”
“Dermistid.”
“Yeah, them.”
“The PMI was already established.”
“The what?”
“Sorry, the postmortem interval. The minimum amount of time someone has been dead.”
“Then what? What else is there?”
“Something rather telling. The body housed more than one insect species. And not indicative of the wooded area where it was found. It seems Mr. Brewer’s corpse was riddled with grape leafhoppers in various stages of decay.”
“Ew.”
“Indeed. The Cicadellidae is infamous for puncturing grape leaves and sucking out the contents. And not just the nymphs, the adults as well. Pesky little vampires if a vineyard doesn’t treat the area.”
“Um, so you’re saying Brewer’s body came from a vineyard? That he was killed in a vineyard and then dumped in the woods?”
“That’s precisely what my department is trying to ascertain.”
“Yeesh. There’s like a zillion vineyards on this lake, not to mention the mom-and-pop backyard ones.”
“That may be the case, but only a handful of vineyards seem to be plagued by the Cicadellidae this summer. Either they slacked off on their pesticide treatment or failed to remove the basal leaves and/or lateral shoots. Then again, they might have tried a pesticide that wasn’t as effective.”
“Who? Who? Do you know which vineyards?”
“We know of three of them. And if one of their grape leafhoppers turns out to be the same type of leafhopper found on the deceased, that would most likely . . .”
“Most likely what? How many darned leafhoppers are there?”
I could hear Godfrey inhale as he proceeded to give Wikipedia a run for its money. “The Erythroneura is most commonly found on Concord and Niagara grapes while the E. bistrata is known to plague Vinifera and hybrids. That doesn’t discount the E. tricinta, the E. vulnerata and the E. vitris, all of which can wreak havoc on commercial grapes.”
“So you’re telling me you don’t know yet.”
“I’m telling you my department has just begun its investigative study.”
“Well, tell them to hurry up.”
“The insects were in various stages of decay. It’s not that simple.”
“Can you at least divulge which vineyards have the pestilence problem? I mean, it can’t be a state secret, can it?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes. These matters are confidential. If word got out that, say, one particular winery had a problem with vineyard pests, consumers may be less likely to purchase their wines for fear the grapes weren’t as good a quality as grapes grown from an unaffected vineyard.”
“Can you give me a hint?”
“Honestly, Norrie, you’re terrible. That information can only be released to the Ontario and Yates County Sheriff’s Offices. When it becomes available. But that doesn’t stop you from using your own powers of deduction.”
“Meaning?”
“Think about it. If Brewer was murdered in a vineyard, it would make sense it had to be one that used his workers. Go from there.”
“Oh my gosh, Godfrey. I could kiss you.” Yikes, I can’t believe that came out of my mouth.
“I accept your thank-you. Keep me posted. Maybe coffee or something this week.”
“You’ve got a deal.”
Chapter 26
“I don’t think Brewer was hit by a car and the body taken to the woods,” I said as I bit into my hamburger and quickly grabbed a napkin to wipe the juices from my chin. It was a little past seven and the guys from the Grey Egret had just finished barbequing the hamburgers. We were seated outdoors on the side of their porch that faced the lake.
Theo spooned some of Fred’s Mediterranean salad onto his plate and squinted. “What do you mean?”
“Well, Brewer’s body appeared as if he succumbed to a road accident but I don’t think that was the case.” I then went on to explain about Godfrey and the leafhoppers that were found on the corpse.
“So you’re saying he was killed in a vineyard and disposed of in the woods?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Now we just have to figure out which vineyard. Oh, and we have to find a way to chat with Eli again.”
Theo must have let go of the salad spoon because it tumbled from the table and landed next to Charlie, who gave it one sniff and moved his head away. “I think I’ve seen enough of that kid to last me well into the next century.”
“Didn’t you hear what Delia said? He’s staying overnight in Dresden. Again. He’s stayed there before with Stuart. Think about it—Dresden. Where Brewer’s office is and where that little Las Vegas garage is situated. And from the way Delia spoke about the boys going in and out of the neighbors’ yards, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if those two knew something that could bring us closer to figuring out who committed at least one of the murders. Assuming Frank was murdered, which I think is a safe assumption at this point.”
“Whew,” Don said. “I didn’t think you were going to come up for air. And what is it exactly that you wanted to ask Eli about?”
“Frank’s body, for starters. Eli and Stuart saw it. Up close and personal, no doubt, knowing those two. They’d be able to tell us if they saw a gunshot wound or blue lips or, or . . . whatever. If we wait for the coroner’s report, it could be days.”
Theo turned to Don and shrugged. “Hate to say it, but Norrie’s got a point.”
“Norrie may have a point but what next? The two of you canvassing Dresden on some cooked-up excuse to find out where the kid is staying?”
I all but jumped out of my seat. “We won’t have to. We know Stuart’s last name. Delia said Mrs. Landrow. How many Landrows can there be in Dresden? And she said neighbors’ yards. That means Stuart lives in town, not on the outskirts of Dresden. Really easy to look up the address.”
Don proceeded to cover his second burger with mayonnaise, ketchup, and a squirt of mustard. “And when did you plan on this escapade?”
“Kids are up early,” I said, “and our wineries open a tad later on Sundays. If we get a move on, we could drive over there tomorrow, have a nice little chitchat with Eli and Stuart, and be back here in time to greet our customers. All we need is an excuse to go over there.”
“Show up with candy and cookies and you won’t need an excuse,” Don said.
I looked at Theo. “Works for me. I’ll head to Wegmans before I go home. And don’t worry, I’ll get baked goods for all of us.”
The
o smiled. “I’m not sure the next part of your equation can be solved with sugary snacks. How do you propose to track down the vineyard in question?”
“Hmm, Godfrey said there were only three vineyards with a leafhopper problem. He also mentioned something about colonization and density but I sort of zoned out. Anyway, one of those vineyards had to be at a winery where Brewer’s workers were employed. All we need to do is find out which wineries, in addition to the Speltmores’ and Troberts’, used that cooperative and see if any of them have a leafhopper issue.”
I continued to savor my hamburger and considered going for seconds when I suddenly remembered something. “Oh my gosh! I don’t have to look any further. It’s right under my nose. I completely forgot—Francine has a list of all the wineries who use Brewer’s cooperative. It’s in the kitchen drawer near the phone.”
“Don’t forget the obvious,” Don said. “The Speltmores and Troberts. Do one of them have a leafhopper crisis?”
I froze. Not because of the leafhoppers but because I didn’t want to consider the fact that Brewer’s murder might have indeed taken place at one of our WOW wineries. In fact, not only hadn’t I considered it, I refused to believe it was possible. Not Catherine and her husband. Not the way she acted. And if it was Henry and Delia, well, yeesh. They now had two possible murders on their hands.
“I suppose we could ask the WOW women if leafhoppers are an issue this year. That’s innocuous enough, isn’t it?” I asked. “I mean, it’s not as if any of them know about Brewer’s body and my conversation with Godfrey.”
Theo stabbed at the salad with his fork and finally pierced a large tomato, which he promptly stuffed into his mouth. “Not exactly your typical dinner conversation. We can’t just phone them up out of the blue and ask about leafhoppers. Not without a good reason.”
I gulped. “I can never think of a good reason to talk about insects.”
Don continued to chew on his burger but moved his eyes from Theo to me. Finally, when he finished eating, he said, “Take a shortcut. Ask your vineyard manager. He’ll know. Those guys are pretty tight with each other. In fact, I’ll ask ours and see if it coincides with what John Grishner at your end knows.”
“You’re a genius. An absolute genius.”
Theo did a quick eye roll and laughed. “Don’t say that. He’ll get a swelled head.”
We agreed that I’d be at their house at eight the next morning in order to give Theo and me enough time to chat with Eli and get back to our tasting rooms. We devoured the half dozen almond and chocolate cookies that Emma had baked, and as soon as I wiped the last crumb from my lips, I took off for Wegmans. Don was right. With candy and cookies, we didn’t need an excuse to see the boys.
• • •
I left a voicemail for John before turning in for the night, asking if he knew of any vineyards in our area who were dealing with grape leafhoppers. I tried to make it sound matter-of-fact but I must have had a hint of desperation in my voice because he phoned me at sunup.
“Don’t tell me you read that article from the county Cooperative Extension office regarding summer vineyard pests? Not to worry. We’re fine. And yeah, those things migrate into neighboring vineyards, but they move slowly and begin their destruction at the edges of a vineyard. We know what to look for.”
“Um, actually, I was more interested in who did or does have a problem. And I promise I won’t blab it all over the place. Godfrey Klein from the Experiment Station told me Brewer’s body had grape leafhoppers in various stages of decay on it. That means the body had been moved from a vineyard somewhere to the woods where it was found.”
“And you want to know which vineyard?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Hmm, I’m surprised the sheriff’s office isn’t beating the door down with this one.”
“Oh, they will. Trust me. But they have all this protocol stuff to deal with first. So, do you have any idea?”
“I’ve only heard of two vineyards on this side of the lake and one across from us. And not a word to anyone, okay?”
“Understood.”
“Morning Meadow down by Watkins Glen and Lake View near us. The one across the lake is south of Sampson State Park. The Troberts’ vineyard manager got in touch with all of the neighboring vineyard managers. They blame the issue on getting a late start with the lateral shoot removal. Anyway, it’s under control now.”
“Oh my gosh. It does kind of point the finger at Catherine’s winery, doesn’t it? I mean, it’s not a far distance for someone to hop, skip, and jump across the road with a dead body.”
“Norrie, those are the three vineyards I know about. It doesn’t mean there aren’t any others in the same predicament.”
“I know. But it’s a start. Thanks, John. I appreciate it.”
“Listen, a word of advice—be careful with your snooping around. Let the paid investigators deal with it. For all we know, Brewer’s killer could be right under our noses.”
“Um, maybe not just Brewer’s.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s probably on the news already but the regional manager for Libations was found dead at Speltmore Winery yesterday. Long story. I’m convinced it’s a homicide, too. Only his corpse was stashed on one of the palettes behind the cases of their new tawny port.”
“That’s awful. And all the more reason for you to back off.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. And thanks again, John.”
I fed the dog, washed up, and had a cup of McCafé complete with Starbucks macchiato creamer. Nothing like keeping all of the coffee industries in business. Then I dove into one of the many muffins I’d purchased from Wegmans the night before. Although muffins really didn’t begin to describe the huge cupcake-like confections that bore that name. Especially the double chocolate chip variety that practically screamed “eat two of these.”
And if muffins weren’t enough, I grabbed bags of their homemade chocolate chip cookies, their decorated shortbreads, and their rainbow chip chunk. I figured that would be more than enough to placate Eli and Stuart while ensuring that Theo and Don got their fair share.
Forty-five minutes later, with enough goodies in my backseat to keep a junior football league happy, I took off for the Grey Egret. Theo waved to me from the porch and I pulled the car closer to the house.
“Don’t get in yet,” I said. “You need to bring these cookies and muffins inside for Don. I got more than enough for those two scoundrels, who are probably terrorizing Dresden by now. Not to worry, there’s a huge muffin in here with your name on it.”
“That almost makes up for the early excursion.”
“You make it sound like we’re driving to Dunkirk, not Dresden. Hurry up.”
Less than twenty minutes later I pulled off of Route 14 and drove down Dresden’s Main Street for the second time in the same weekend. Laura Landrow’s house was on the corner of Bogart and Charles Street, according to the Zillow search I made. Surprising what I can find on the internet, including Laura’s phone number and address.
“That has to be it,” I said to Theo. “Not bad. Seems to be the only split-level house in a three-block radius. And recently painted, too. Off-white. Must be the color choice around here.” I pulled alongside the house and parked on the street. “I figured I’d knock on the door, introduce myself and tell Mrs. Landrow that we were at the scene of the crime and felt badly for the boys so we brought them treats.”
“You can save the spiel. Take a look. Isn’t that them at the end of the block? And it looks like they’ve got fishing rods. No fish, mind you, just the rods.”
“They must be coming back from the Keuka Lake Outlet Trail. I always wanted to hike the full seven miles that connected Seneca to Keuka Lake but never got that far. Wow. This saves me making up an excuse for Mrs. Landrow. Talk about good timing.”
I threw open the car door and shouted to the boys, “Eli! Stuart! We brought you muffins and cookies from Wegmans.”
I’d never seen
a faster fifty-yard dash.
“Can we meet you down by the marina?” Stuart asked. “My mother is making oatmeal. Puke. P U K E. She’ll have a canary bird if she sees us eating this stuff.”
“Fine,” I replied. “I don’t want to upset your parents.”
“Oh, my dad won’t be upset ’cause he won’t know. He lives in Seneca Falls. They’re divorced.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
Stuart shrugged. “We better walk. If someone sees us getting into your car they’ll call the sheriff. Nosy old coots on my block.”
“No problem,” I said. “But you can stash your fishing rods in the back if you want.”
Eli opened the back passenger-side door and the boys deposited their fishing rods in the hatchback area. “See you in ten,” he said.
I turned the car around and drove to the marina. “Remember,” I said to Theo. “Keep them eating and keep them talking. They may be the best source of intel we have.”
Theo almost choked on his words. “Heaven help us.”
Chapter 27
The marina stretched out along Seneca Lake’s shoreline complete with a cadre of small motorboats. In the distance I saw three rowboats with fishing lines dangling into the water. My guess was that Eli and Stuart used one of the wooden docks for their angling.
“This is a far cry better than the dock at Kashong Point,” I said to Theo as we walked toward the lake. Both of us carried the bags of muffins and cookies as well as bottled iced teas. “Look—those docks have built-in wooden benches, and thankfully they’re not close to the edge.” I picked up the pace and took a step up onto the dock.
“Yeah, I suppose your last experience at Kashong Point is still ingrained in your head.”
“Not my most pleasurable moment, but I still wound up getting the information I needed. I think this time it might be a tad easier with the boys.”
We put our bags on the bench and turned away from the water to the road.